Poems (Allen)/Broken Faith
UDS on the apple-boughs, And robins in every tree; Brown on the children's sun-kissed brows, A softer blue on the tender sea, Ah me! Bees in the maples murmuring, Brooks on the hillsides;—and yet, O Spring, Thou hast broken thy faith with me!
BROKEN FAITH.
UDS on the apple-boughs, And robins in every tree; Brown on the children's sun-kissed brows, A softer blue on the tender sea, Ah me! Bees in the maples murmuring, Brooks on the hillsides;—and yet, O Spring, Thou hast broken thy faith with me! Broken thy faith with me, Who have pined for thee so long,—Waiting and waiting patiently Throngh all the Winter's cruel wrong, Ah me! Climbing the rugged, desolate hills To watch the sky for the faintest thrills Of the azure yet to be.
Violets sweeten the woods And purple the river-sides, While deep in the shady solitudes The last sweet bud of the arbutus hides, Ah me! And the treacherous honey-bee stays his wing To wrong its sweetness;—but yet, O Spring, Thou hast broken thy faith with me!
Never a bud is seen Within my garden walls,—Never a touch of sprouting green; And the fitful sunlight faintly falls, Ah me! On broken trellis and leafless vine, Where last year's tendrils bleach and pine, With blackened stems between.
June will be here anon, Flushing the smiling skies, Putting her bravest garments on, Flaunting her roses in homesick eyes, Ah me! Which will not smile at the thoughts they bring, Or weep when they wither;—for thou, O Spring, Hast broken thy faith with me!